


how to save a life?

by Laeana



Series: the blood we spilled on the floor [2]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 2021, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Childhood Trauma, Complicated Relationships, Denial of Feelings, Fix-It, Friendship, Future Fic, Getting Back Together, Healing, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Jos Verstappen's A+ Parenting, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Break Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-08 05:00:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: But Max didn't die.He thought he did but it wasn't the case.And now he struggles to find a reason, a reason to live, a reason to keep going.But he's not alone.
Relationships: Daniel Ricciardo/Max Verstappen
Series: the blood we spilled on the floor [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1931596
Comments: 6
Kudos: 50





	how to save a life?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Romantic_at_Heart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Romantic_at_Heart/gifts).



> you kinda are the one who convinced me to do a sequel, so I may as well gift it to you !! Thanks for your support, hope you'll enjoy this writing ...

Max is sick.

And he's tired of it all. To fight for something that seems far away and no matter how badly Daniel wants him to go see a specialist, he flatly refuses.

He spends a whole week in the hospital. 

People think it's all his father's fault. He lets journalists headline this way, so that his reputation is not tainted. So no one would know that there was more to it than just assault and battery. But a suicide attempt.

He is sick.

He knows it. He's purely aware of it and he's been led to his own self-destruction but it's not like he cares more than that.

He doesn't want it to interfere with his behavior. Not once more. He can't wait to come back to F1, that was the only thing to give his life a boost. 

After it shattered into pieces. After that he has nothing else to give up on.

Daniel puts his hand on his. Always so bright and shiny and honestly unbearable. He lost the opportunity to be by his side and despite the older one returning he still doesn't feel legitimate.

"Talk to me, Max. Please. My love ..."

"What do you want me to say to you ? I have exhausted all my words. I have nothing more to say, to say to you. The world doesn't need to hear my voice either, I think. "

Daniel's eyes widen. Despair reflected in his brown eyes. The grip on his hand tightens.

"If it's not to me then to anyone else. Lando is worried, all drivers are ..."

He tensed noticeably when he heard that sentence. Because he doesn't want them to know what really happened. Failure until proven wrong.

That people only know when they actually find themselves crying in front of a gray stele titled "Max Emilian Verstappen". If they ever cry. Until then, he wants to stay normal. As if he really was.

"Do they know ? Did you tell them ?"

His reproach bursts into the air. An emotion other than the gloomy aspect he has shown since waking up. Concern. The Australian flinches at this contrasting tone.

"No. Not to that extent. Lando didn't need details to guess. I don't know about the other drivers but they at least heard you were in the hospital."

"Besides what are you doing here ? You should take care of your team, not me."

"No ..." 

It is breathed so gently that for a moment he thinks he has dreamed it but when he looks up to meet Daniel's he understands that he has heard correctly. That this love, mingled with the gold of his eyes, has never really disappeared.

It doesn't matter what happened, what came between them. It doesn't matter if love doesn't always triumph and if it's not the thing that makes relationships last.

"No." resumes Daniel and it is firmer. “I couldn't go back while you were here. And…”

His heart pounds in his ears and it’s so strange because until then he had been convinced that it was impossible for that to happen. That his passion had come to die at his feet, at his side when he had committed suicide.

It seems that nothing can really predict the pranks of a human heart. Not even his owner.

"Our story is not over, Max. I refuse to give it up once more."

Hope. 

But it's so-

Just hope rising in his chest, making him bite his lip, because he's not going to cry now, he refuses to do it, but he feels so bad.

He is sick.

He is sick and hope is dangerous.

* * *

Max pushes the door of his apartment in Monaco. Finally. Finally coming home and even if he knows that he will miss at least the next race (it's inevitable), he will at least be able to do some sports activities. To spend all his frustration there.

He pulls his suitcase back behind him, creaking when he feels the unpleasant sensation of his skin on the wrists pulled by the effort (his palms not in a much better condition). He must not reopen his wounds.

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair and then he blinks because-

Well, he's not alone.

Lando immediately lets go of what he has in his hand when he sees him and comes to hug him.

"Max …! Don't fucking do that again, I was so scared of … losing you."

The briton even has trouble speaking and Max finds himself strangely stoic about it all.

It's okay, he's not dead.

Unfortunately.

He's a little too guarded to try anything. He doesn't believe he can particularly enjoy life again so he just waits. Whether he stays there or falls a little lower, that won't change anything. He won't come back up. 

"But I am alive."

"But you wanted to die."

Clear watery eyes stare at him; Lando is almost shaking at what appears to be misunderstanding.

"Don't pretend. I saw how Dan was shaken up after his visit to the hospital. And you're supposed to be my friend, Max, do you think I really wouldn't see it ?"

The youngest one has a gentle gesture and comes to take his hands in his, trace the bandages that encircle his palms up to his wrists, half of his forearms.

"I have nothing to tell you, Lando ..."

He is weak. His shell is weak and he longs only to return to this eternal rest that he found a time. Nothing but a fleeting moment, but at that moment, how good it was not to worry about anything anymore, to simply no longer be there.

To have disappeared.

A fact that does not leave him and almost haunts him because, if he was so rested at this moment, contrary to this reality which exhausts him and chains him, would it not be better for him to stay there ?

He thinks about it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he dives into it. 

He doesn't want to heal.

He wants to be left alone.

"For the moment." Lando murmurs and he gives him a glance shining with the typical spark that Daniel's brings up, hope, it must be hope, loathsome, sickening hope "For now you have nothing to say to me but I would wait. I would wait until you need to talk to me." 

It's just a whisper.

Max wonders if he's feeling anything. In fact, he feels something, of course, it reaches his heart despite not wanting it. His desire, his realities ... nothing that is good.

No one was really there when he started to fall. He also never forgets what started it.

And he'll never really blame Daniel because it's not his fault if he's unstable. No, it's his.

If he was tougher, more resistant, stronger mentally. If he really had the stuff of a champion, that pressure would have been nothing at all. He would have succeeded and it was not the absence of one person, however fundamental, that would have brought it all to pieces.

No one should ever build their life around a person because there are so many hazards and in the end, this person is not them and can disappear at any time.

What an idiot he was to forget this rule.

He no longer had any reason to live. He was brought to the brink.

He refuses to come back.

He refuses to cling to the reasons given to him.

Why can't anyone let him drown in his despair ? Why can't anyone let him be done ? Why do we always have to hold on to people who are so eager to leave ?

So many questions in his head and he feels silly for not finding an immediate answer. At least maybe he would have had the solution to his problem.

Max isn't who he was before and if people want to say he's just a shadow of himself, he'll let them do it with an indifference he won't even pretend.

He is so out of everything.

"Max please…" the pleading tone of Lando who is always trying to find something in him, anything to hold on to.

He tenses up.

"Get out." it's freezing "Get out of my apartment. I don't want to see you anymore. Get out !"

Impatience, coldness. The Briton starts and emerges, looking crestfallen, a little collapsed at this refusal.

He doesn't want him to make him feel anything. Feeling emotions is giving free rein to pain again and he doesn't want it. He never wants it again.

He was in so much pain. He thought he was losing everything. He lost everything. He does not know how to distinguish the nuance between the two, he does not know how to tell the difference. Everything looks too similar.

He hears Lando whisper a few words at the front door and knows he's not going to be left alone. That Daniel will undoubtedly come to his house.

They don't live far enough away, a very poor choice of apartment.

Which seemed like the best choice when they were dating.

He feels like a decade has passed since that time. So much has happened. He changed. Everything changed. And nothing will go back to the way it was before.

"Max, please." firmer, Daniel's voice does not tremble. Same sentence but the meaning seems so different here.

Max rolls his eyes and in an excess that does not suit him he sweeps a frame on the ground before striding towards his room.

And Daniel only comes to disturb him moments later. 

"Sweetheart, it's time to eat."

He's not hungry. He is not even aware of the passage of time. He sat in the shadows, stared into space. A few seconds might have passed and it could be hours, he wouldn't care less.

Everything and nothing that goes through his head as he searches for that inner peace, that feeling.

As he can't find it.

He moves almost mechanically to his living room and climbs onto one of the stools on his kitchen island. A plate is pushed in front of him. 

He has a brief vision of Daniel but he does not look at him, eyes fixed outwards, thoughtful, curls in disarray, beautiful. Daniel has always been beautiful.

He begins to eat without finding any particular taste.

Bland, his life is bland. Gray, devoid of color, as if they had been absorbed, devoured by something beyond his comprehension. By an assemblage of circumstances and agreements which led to others and still others and which ended up leading him on the floor of a living room, to empty himself of his blood.

But he eats. To keep himself alive, if he really wants to.

He doesn't speak, he doesn't smile.

He thinks he was kept here against his will. Deep down, he's probably already dead inside.

* * *

Max dreams. 

And these dreams are-

Colorful. Full of colors. A bygone era, a past era, but an era that seemed much happier to him. He suddenly feels so light that the notion of a dream slips away from him, escapes him a little.

It's late. He couldn't really sleep, devoured by his uncertainties, by words he should have said for so long and this era seems to be closing in on him with no way out. 

So Max crept to the door of his teammate, the one who will stop being so at the end of the year ... they've missed so many things he feels.

And at the same time they didn’t. They are so close, have been so close, that the slightest argument has shaken them despite the more than cordial relationship they had and good god as he always hated arguing with Daniel. He loves him too much. Seeing them tear each other apart hurts more. He is aware of a lot of things.

This is his last chance.

This is his only chance.

A little dizzy but ambitious enough, just enough to let go of his insecurities.

He knocks on the door and finds himself in front of a confused Daniel, a little tired, who has not even dressed in more than underpants.

"H-Hi, Dan."

"Have you been drinking ?" asks the older one, frowning.

"Not enough." he whispers "Or just enough, depending on how you see it."

Daniel stares at him with a sort of surprise, a glare. He apparently woke him up, which is why he's not wearing any t-shirts and Max swallows, trying not to turn away from the subject too much.

"Less and I wouldn't have had the courage to come. More and I wouldn't have found my way to your house."

"I live right next to your own apartment."

A little humor, he smiles softly, perhaps a little pathetic.

"It doesn't matter. I had to come."

"Why are you here, Maxy ?"

The question. And he knows he has a whole opportunity in front of him. That of saying what has been gnawing at him for months, this feeling that has never left him and those words he would like to say. That he never found the courage to say.

"We want to pretend that nothing has changed but everything has changed since Baku. And now ... now I put off this moment so long that you are going to leave soon. You’re leaving and it will change so many things. We won't be on the same team anymore and I won't see you on a daily basis and I have a hard time accepting the fact that I ..."

A deep breath. Courage. He fixes his gaze on Daniel's face.

"That I never would have told you that I loved you."

"You ..." total surprise "Max, you love me ?"

He nods. He is already preparing for a refusal, a rejection. But it was so heavy he needed to just get rid of it. He feels relieved, somewhere. Relieved of a weight. All this time kept for him, a secret of inexhaustible heaviness tiring him for too long.

He is surprised when a pair of arms closes around him.

"I love you too, Max. Damn, I've loved you for too long, I had gotten used to the idea that this would never happen …"

He sniffs softly. He also believed that this would never happen or maybe alcohol makes him too emotional.

"I ... can I kiss you ?"

The Australian's question makes him swallow, throat dry and he nods, almost shaking with desire.

Their lips meet. Their first contact and it's so weird. It's everything he ever wanted and it's so much better than anything he's ever dreamed of. 

Mouths against each other, to move, and when their tongues make contact he moans furiously.

"God, Max, you ... if you knew how long I've been waiting for this."

"Why don't you show it to me then ?"

It's suggestive and he attracts a satisfied smile from his mate. They are still terribly close and he lets out a little noise of surprise when Daniel lifts him up to take him with him.

Max is released on the bed and he feels himself blushing more, thanks the half-light which camouflages his features. 

"I love you, Max." Daniel whispers in his ear before depositing a trail of kisses on his neck.

"I ..."

It's complicated to leave them out. Words he's afraid of never really being able to say.

"Me too, Dan, I love you."

* * *

When Max wakes up, he's a little better. Everything is relative and this dream just made him think. Maybe even ...

Maybe not even condemn himself right away.

He thinks that the next few days will prove him right, that the time that will pass will do nothing to soothe this dull pain that has never left him deep down. But these are hazards and things that he cannot foresee, so just waiting seems good to him.

He has ... an arm wrapped around his waist and freezes when he realizes it. He quickly recognizes the tattoos that border him as well as this grip that has never changed.

How long since the last time they slept together ? 

He didn't even feel that Daniel had slipped behind him and they resumed that same position they used to take when they were still together.

Which is no longer relevant.

Max tries to shift slightly but the older one only tightens his grip and he whines slightly when he feels his pelvis stuck to that of the Australian and the latter's curls against his neck.

So long.

He can't deny that he missed Daniel.

It would be too big a lie. This denial is not something that he wants to assume. No. He missed him but he was no longer there and no matter how late he came back, it's probably already too late. 

That's all he needs to say to himself.

He's already making a mental list of what to do to be left alone. Words and words and meanings. Just a few bits.

And keep his ordeal silent, as silent as possible.

He knows Daniel wouldn't agree. That his relatives would not agree. So he prefers not to talk about it and to remain as neutral as possible. Do not revive these emotions more than necessary.

"Mmmh, Max ?"

The sleepy, hoarse voice he hadn't heard for a long time. So many facts that reappear and he could find himself dizzy. 

"Remove your arm, please."

Now free to move, he gets up. He doesn't have a t-shirt but he doesn't care. He has to redo his bandages. 

And maybe do some sport.

If he has a goal. If returning to F1 is a goal and if he is strong enough to achieve it.

He doubts himself deep down, at the base. Raised to be champion, deposed even before reaching the title. Ridiculous isn't it ?

He undoes the bands and grimaces slightly. Nothing seems to have reopened so much the better. He thinks it will leave scars. It will probably leave scars. He traces the irregular lines with the tips of his fingers, stitched together. The puffy skin he could reopen by just digging his fingernails a little.

Thumb against one of the lines. Not very aesthetic. He did it as quickly as possible, just grabbed the shards of glass. One flash and he's pulled back and he's bleeding out through those same cuts and-

"Max? Do you want me to help you ?"

Daniel gently grabbed his hands. With his throat blocked, Max just nods, refusing to let the memories cloud his vision. He didn't find anything to hold onto so why hold on so much.

Daniel works quickly, jaw tight, the first time he actually sees his injuries. Ah. 

"I should let them get infected." he squeaks with a kind of humor, very cold irony that doesn't even seem to make the Australian react.

"You wouldn't do something like that. Because that would mean you wouldn’t be able to race afterwards."

Max isn't even quite sure he can do it, go back. The damage on his hands ... how long before it goes away ? He counts the hours, the days with anguish. This is where he belongs. To F1.

Because it's something he can control, it's a world all in his control where emotions, memories aren't needed. Where he is safe against all odds. Where there are probably parts of him left; those he could not bring himself to kill.

Daniel knows him too well.

"I'm finished."

"Thank you."

He thought he woke up at the right time, but his fatigue remains present. He needs some coffee and maybe get his phone back, finally turn it back on.

But weariness sticks to his body because to turn it back on means to face people. 

And he doesn't want to.

He gets up, ready to head for the kitchen to start his day but Daniel does not release his hold, gently holding him back, just firm enough for him to feel it but not enough to hurt him.

"Come back to sleep ?"

"I…"

It's tempting.

He has nothing to lose.

He just nods. He doesn't want to think about the warm touch of the Aussie's hand in his until they are facing the bed again, or the feel of his calloused fingers under his, or that reflex that he retains that of going to trace the inked rose with his fingertips. He doesn't want to think about it.

Because, love huh. This is not a reason, it never has been and he refuses to let it be. At the best, Daniel will only delay his departure but then here is a terrifying question that makes him ask himself some equally amazing findings.

Will he really be able to let Daniel down for the second time ?

After everything the older one tries to do, after the older one comes back to his side ?

No, he has to.

Clear, concise mindset, set towards a goal without ever deviating. He will not deviate. He can’t.

Daniel doesn't put his arms around his waist, keeps a reasonable distance, but there is still ... that weight, that almost comfortable feeling of being by his side.

Comfort.

It's strange.

One of the things he never thought he could feel again.

* * *

Max is back in the paddock sooner than he thinks. But only as a spectator. Seeing someone in his car makes him nervous. Because he should be in his place, he should be there. 

And Daniel seemed to sort of distance himself. Since they arrived.

Again, if he felt anything it probably would have hurt him but he doesn't feel anything so everything is fine.

Perhaps.

Surely.

Alex and Pierre are chatting calmly before the race and, when they see him, they rush to his side. To give him a hug. Is it starting to become a habit ?

"Are you fine ?" asks the Thai and he shrugs.

Very subjective, maybe a little too much.

"If anything, tell us okay." resumes Alex and Max might be a little surprised by the silence of the Frenchman.

The latter bites his lip.

"Come on, I know you're probably frustrated to be there but you'll be back in your car soon. I believe in you." Pierre said simply with a small smile.

The fact that his comrade managed to read it so easily somehow surprises him. 

"Thank you ..."

He replies, trying to hide his spark as much as possible. But Pierre just smiles more, giving him a light pat on the shoulder.

And where he expected more questions, requests, the two current RedBull pilots are making their way.

He meets other pilots along the way. Everyone has a different reaction when they see him.

A simple nod, a worried look, the most expressive ones come to speak to him, to establish contact. 

He feels ... strange about that.

He hasn't always been a sympathetic person, but for once he seems to have gotten everyone to agree about him. 

He watches the start and the race, bubbling from the inside, longing for what's in front of him without clearly being able to reach it. He curses himself, curses his wounds. He shudders. In search of contact, of those sensations, of the adrenaline he left behind. 

He misses that.

As well.

He's like a guest of honor but that's not his place, that's not where he's supposed to be.

He walks in the paddock. He avoids what he can avoid. In this case, the media. As possible. He runs away from them as if his life depended on it. He thinks they don't need him to add anything to their words. At all.

He doesn't really pay attention to the details of the race, who wins. He keeps his eyes fixed on the asphalt, imagining the turns, the way to take them, the steering wheel under his fingers, the gear ratios …

But the race is over so he starts to move again.

Caught up in an unchanging, step-by-step flow of thoughts, Max almost misses a conversation taking place in a corner, probably meant to be kept secret, but the flow is quite strong.

"You can't force him like that, that's the kind of motivation he has to find on his own."

"I know !" Daniel shouts in a burst of voice that does not resemble him. "I know very well. You don't need to remind me."

He frowns. They speak of him, that's for sure. But he does not immediately recognize the second voice.

"Just I … You think it's okay. You think it's gonna be okay, you think your life doesn't mean that much to a person, that they can do it without you." begins the Australian, who seems to know a little too much on the subject, unfortunately.

“You create a whole concept of reality and desires that materialize in that same person. You pull out, maybe out of cowardice or maybe it's because you felt you just couldn't take it anymore."

What happened. Trembling, he closes his eyes, leaning against the wall firmly, looking for a way to stay grounded in reality. Daniel's feelings that he really sees for the first time.

This emptiness, this lack that he felt but that the one who was his boyfriend also felt, perhaps differently but in a certain ambiguous way.

"And you realize, much later, too late, that those illusions weren't real. None of them. And you can come so close from ... forgetting to say I love you to someone, especially if it's for the last time."

And those three little words that they still haven't said to each other. Who have not passed his lips. 

"So close from … a life swept away in a few minutes. Seconds. And after that all is over and you never get a chance to talk to that same person again."

Shaky breathing. Is Daniel crying ? Max doesn't feel so far away from crying, beaten by the emotions he feels, which he can't control. It doesn't matter how badly he wants it.

"I can't lose him, Charles, I can't lose him. Not him, not now."

"I know. But don't extrapolate situations like that. You think I wouldn't understand what it feels like to lose someone …? I don't think our experiences are much different, Daniel."

"It wasn't … said like that. I know that. Of course I know, Charlie."

He doesn't listen to the rest of the conversation but instead walks up the paddock in search of a place to hide. He needs to take stock, he needs solitude.

But it's like a mutual agreement; that of not leaving him alone.

"Max ?"

He almost forgot that this person could be there in the paddock. He sniffles softly upon hearing his voice and knows that delaying the moment, he might end up actually cracking up.

"Max, I've been looking for you ever since I heard you were here !" Nico resumes with a warm smile towards him.

This time in Dutch and he shakes his head, swallowed up by all these memories that devour him from the inside.

"This … is not the right time, Nico."

The older man frowns before grabbing hold of his hand and pulling him along. In his driver room.

"Didn't you hear what I said ?" he repeats, mimicking annoyance to hide his weakness.

"No matter how much you play it like that, Max, you can't hold back your emotions forever. No matter how badly you want to. And, in this case, you got hit right in the heart here."

He bites his lip, no longer looking up, for fear that it will betray him, but Nico draws him into his arms.

"Kleintje ..." the German whispers softly.

Tears roll down his cheeks and he sees it with a sort of helplessness. Because he can't stop it. He feels like it weighs so heavily on him. Yet he didn't feel anything, he was supposed to feel nothing.

"I don't know what to do, Nico. I don't know what to do, I don't know where I am … I thought I was dying and I'm still alive but I can't … choose how I feel about that. "

"It's a second chance, it's up to you what to do with it."

"Maybe but … it seems so easy for the others. To come back, to care, and I wonder where they were before ? Did I end up chasing everyone who cared about me ?"

Nico sighs calmly, stroking his hair in a gesture that seems to be to soothe him.

"That's not true. You are loved, Max, although you may have a hard time seeing it. They never stopped caring about you."

"It's too hard to admit."

"The truth is often hard to admit."

"I don't want to take other people into account. If I find a reason to live, I …"

"Of course other people don't have to be your main motivation. You will find it in due time. But isn’t it already a good thing ?"

Nico's words surprise him. Fairly clear. Max feels his mind calmed, for several reasons, and lets out a quiet sigh.

"What ?"

"The fact that you are already reconsidering dying."

He can feel the German's smile against his forehead.

He hadn't really noticed it.

No longer wanting to die so much … but is it to move away completely from death ?

* * *

Max takes part in free practices. He still cannot fully participate in a race, a two GP gap is impossible to fill, but if that means he can drive a bit … 

The wheel under his fingers and he feels  _ free _ .

He goes back and forth looking for the perfect lap, regardless of the tires and everything around. Because he just wanted to be able to ride again, because he just wanted to be able to feel it again.

Liquid adrenaline flowing through his veins.

Who leaves him breathless, who leaves him dizzy, to stop wondering if he has his place here, if it is worth him to be alive, because he belongs to this place. He belongs to the track. 

"Box, box."

He puts an end to his last lap, searching for his air more than usual. He is asked for data, his feelings and he is surprisingly stunned.

He comes out, shaken, from the cockpit and nods when Christian asks him if he's okay. A basic. 

He traces the path to go to change. 

Once done, he leans against the wall. He feels tears rolling down his cheeks yet again, but he knows it's not misunderstanding this time.

Max felt so alive.

He still trembles.

"Max ? Can I come in ?"

He doesn't trust himself to answer, knows Daniel is going to come in anyway.

Concern takes over the older man when he sees him curled up against the wall. It seems that all of the Australian's inhibitions go through the window as the latter hugs him.

"I knew it." Daniel whispers, with a semblance of anger that seems to be directed at himself. "I knew it. You have to stop F1."

Max lets out a strangled noise, too surprised to answer right away.

"Clearly, it's impossible to heal from trauma as long as you stay close to what caused it. You need to distance yourself."

It may not be said badly but he takes it as the worst insult, offense he could have encountered. He pushes the other driver hard, getting up as best his shaking body will allow him.

"Don't you even dare to say that. Might as well die now if it's to never come back in F1."

"Die ? But why can't you hear right, Max ? We're all here for you, ready to give you a thousand reasons to stay. We don't want to lose you, I don't want to lose you …"

"You really don't understand …" he shakes his head flatly "My feelings have nothing to do with the story, I'm supposed to find something holding me back ! No matter how much you give me reasons it doesn't doesn't seem right … because they're not mine."

His tone collapses considerably. Almost only a whisper at the end.

"I want to find my reasons." he whispers, almost distraught "If I am to live … then I want to live because I have decided to."

Daniel is silent, looking him eye to eye. A moment of indecision and he wonders how he managed to bring up the same question that remains in his head.

Is it really worth it ?

The Australian's hand on his cheek. 

"I hate to see you hurting yourself like that. To see you stuck, indecisive. I hate being helpless to your misfortune." Daniel says and his flow is just as low as his "I love you, Max Emilian Verstappen. I love you too much to let go and leave you alone. I …"

Daniel shakes his head.

"I have nightmares about it. It's all my fault and I dream that … that I lost you for good. I dream of never having had a second chance."

_ It's a second chance, it's up to you what to do with it. _

What Nico did not specify is that it is not only his second chance. Many of them have probably lined up, waiting to find the right thing to say, the right thing to do. 

Wanting to tell him that they are there for him.

"Stay, Max. Please stay."

“You shouldn't be able to ask me that, Dan …”

“I know. But that doesn't stop me from doing it, I …”

Daniel glances briefly at his lips. It would only take one step for them to kiss. Suddenly he becomes terribly aware of it.

"You ?"

"Stop me if it's too much."

The Australian walks slowly, watching his movements and comes to put his mouth against his. 

His brain seemed to stop working for a short time and yet they were used to it. Kisses of all kinds, the difficulty of keeping his hands away from the body of the other, the smiles exchanged ... 

He plunges into another era which extends its arms to him. Familiar. Because it has already happened. He knows that Daniel only wants his own … he knows he is … safe with him anyway.

That no one could reach him if he asked for it.

Sometimes it almost scares him how far he's willing to go for him.

And yet it ended.

Max doesn't understand, still doesn't. He would like to understand. It hurts him to think about it again, branded with a hot iron by this absence which is now filling.

"Why did you leave ?" He dares to ask and it is a question that has haunted many of his nights.

"I couldn't breathe anymore."

Stifling.

A relationship that has asked them so much and in which they have invested so much that in the end it closes in on them.

"I don't understand … what tells you that this time it will be better ?"

"Because we're going to do it together this time."

* * *

"You don't want to tell them ?"

Max can feel Daniel's breath against his bare back. 

"To who ?"

"To the other drivers."

He wants to answer in a flash but calms down quite quickly. It's no use, he knows it well. Just state your opinion. No nastiness behind.

"I don't think that's a good idea. It would be the best way for the press to end up knowing about it and I don't want to at all."

"I … not all drivers, of course." Specifies the Australian gently "Those who care about you, those to whom you are closest."

"I … I don't know …"

Max's gaze goes blank. He gets up and sits on the edge of the bed. Head in hands. His relatives. Is he really close enough to anyone? 

He has his own doubts. At first … at first few people liked him. Has he really attracted sympathy since ? His past years come to mind. 

"Max, talk to me, what's wrong ?"

Daniel's arm around his waist and his chest against his back. Sense of security that returns.

“Are there really people who like me enough ? I know I haven't always been …”

“You grew up right in F1, you grew up with me … you can't blame yourself for not being as mature as you are now. "

The truth, only the truth.

"But they've learned to like you, I'm no exception, Maxy. Your doubts cloud your judgment." Daniel rests his head on his neck and lifts his chin.

He finds himself facing the mirror that sits in his room. Reflection. Wide open blue eyes. Union of two men against each other. His gaze drifts towards his arms where bandages are still enthroned but his Australian comes to rectify that quickly.

"Look at you, Max. You are beautiful. You are not the person you were four years ago. Max Emilian Verstappen."

He shakes his head. His red cheeks. He can see Daniel's eyes, barely visible in the dim light, looking at him with an intensity rarely seen. He can only flex under such a gaze.

"I'm determined to prove it to you, Max. I will prove it to you." 

* * *

Max has no idea what Daniel is implying and it seems a little crazy to him, too easy to suddenly let go, to take back a taste for life as if the last months had never existed.

But he looks back and sees this dark period he went through, still too close to him, and understands that the idyll is far from being achieved.

This is why when the news reaches him, he has a hard time reacting properly. To have an adequate reaction. There are a few minutes left to stare at his empty phone screen. Because he tries to get away from it and always gets caught.

Because he doesn't want to do this. 

"Max ?"

The call surprises him. He forgot where he was. It's true he still hasn't returned in F1 and if he took refuge in Daniel's driver's room, that doesn't mean that the latter is inaccessible.

Especially for his … boyfriend's teammate ?

They still haven't talked about it, still haven't characterized what they are, what they are reconstructing bit by bit.

Lando seems a little unsure of whether or not he can step forward, biting his lip, into the doorway.

"Dnf ?"

The youngest one nods without saying more. Max hesitates. They reconnect. Their last meeting was cold. Always his fault.

He opens his arms.

Lando throws himself into it. Sniffles. He strokes his curls gently.

"I missed you." murmurs the Briton in his neck. "I missed you a lot. Carlos keeps asking about you because you don't answer him."

He blinks.

"Really ?"

"Really. He came to England when he found out you had been in the hospital for a week. He was sure I knew something since I’m … you know teammate with Dan and so on."

It is true. Both are in the same team and his entry into the year was made so abruptly … 

"I don't really know but Alex, Pierre, Charles have also asked for news about you. I mean, I only heard about them … I don't know what Daniel did."

Surprise once again.

"What he did ?"

"Maax … you don't know ?"

Lando pulls back slightly to observe him better, but he cannot shirk or deny. He really has no idea what the topic is about.

"He … he protected you, almost like a shield. He kept you safe from the outside world, because you weren't ready, and he also took care of explaining the situation to Christian I believe. "

"What an idiot …" Max whispers for himself as much as for Daniel. 

There is a lot of information to digest, a lot of things to perceive. All he gets suddenly. He is neither satisfied nor happy.

In fact.

He is conflicted.

Because how well Daniel took care of him … was there every moment … but that's no reason … 

"You should talk to him a little bit, I think."

"Yeah, probably I just got so much at once. I'm afraid I'm running out of time." 

Bad news that has just appeared.

"Can I stay with you while I wait ?" Lando asks, almost imploring.

He sighs softly.

"Yes okay. Stay." 

* * *

"A what ?" Daniel asks, struggling to realize what he just heard.

"A lawsuit. For libel. Because I … I don't really know …"

"He has no right. He can't take advantage of the situation like that."

Max grimaces when he hears that. He still struggles to realize. Receiving this by email … he's supposed to be his father.

"Rather, he's trying to turn the situation around."

"You can't defend him, Max." the Australian responds with a frown. "He probably knows what happened, he's going to bring up the problems you had as a reason. I don't-"

He puts his face in his hands.

"I don't know what to do Dan. I don't want to admit it but I'm totally helpless, I-"

He cuts himself in the middle of his sentence. It doesn't sound like him. Ups and downs that he feels constantly and if he had finally found a reason to live then ...

Everything has to get complicated.

The final denouement is too far away and Max-… Max is so tired. He doesn't want to face all of this.

"It's going to be fine. Calm, my love. You haven't done anything wrong. Nothing at all."

"I'm sick of involving you in all of this. I feel like I'm preventing you from living."

Daniel shakes his head in total disagreement with his words.

"Can you confide in your boyfriend's care a little longer ?"

The mention makes him smile slightly. Boyfriend. Is this what they are ? What they just became ? become again ? He feels weird inside. He wonders if he is really legitimate. These feelings …

Always dangerous. Which can carry as far as possible, which can destroy someone in no time.

"Boyfriend …" Max whispers in one gulp.

"Or have I been stripped of this title ?" Daniel asks, an amused gleam in the corner of his eyes.

"No, you know very well it's just you."

But he remembers the arguments and he remembers the words and he remembers that they are often the other one’s greatest weakness, knowing exactly where to aim to get hurt deeply. 

"But you said I wasn’t assuming you, everything you said ... it stuck in my head for a long time. I'm sorry I ..."

"I don’t see what you’re sorry for."

"We can never … fully … live. Because we're F1 drivers. Our relationship is cursed but I'm still so …" a tear rolls down his cheek "so in love with you. Despite everything we have crossed and the fact that we can never be free, I feel like I could never stop loving you. "

Daniel kisses the top of his head, moving around his living room (their living room?) To be in front of him.

"We'll take things as they come, Maxy."

The Australian crouches down in front of him, to get up to his height, and kisses him tenderly.

"I love you too, Max."

It's like a comeback. The same situation is reversed and everything he has always feared is moving away. Not even a possibility. 

One more piece that collapses and he is not alone. And he should be fine. And he knows, at that precise moment, that he will not fall that low again.

* * *

The trial takes place in a haze. Max knows he needs to be more careful, because it concerns him, but one more accusation against him, one more innuendo and what he hears is dangerously blurred.

Suicidal, depressed.

Homosexuality which is even mentioned and he frankly does not understand what the goal is. He thanks anyone who had the common sense to ban the media here and keep this matter strictly private.

The harshness to which he is shown against him surprises him. Without surprising him. He tries to block out all of his emotions because there is no point. Daniel tightens his grip on his hand.

"It will not work." he whispers, eyes wide. "How could I believe that …"

"It's okay." his boyfriend kisses his cheek, making sure no one is looking at them.

“We don't have much to argue our case and-”

Daniel shakes his head to silence him, smirking, like having something, one last card to play. Max wonders what he's up to. They're in a courtroom, it would surprise him that-

He's distracted a moment by a name that was just called.

He turns his head, frowning. Did he imagine it ? This … 

One then two then three … he counts them all but he doesn't even have to. A violent shudder runs through him, it's heartbreaking. All around. 

Formula One drivers standing in the back of the room, waiting patiently. Present … for him. To support him, defend him. 

A sob passes his throat. Incredulity.

Daniel's arm went around his shoulders.

"You just noticed, didn't you."

Left speechless, he can’t answer.

* * *

Hugs from all sides. Max has never really been a fan of contact, but for once he lets himself go. He might cry. Everything that just happened in this room. The fact that they've all been there.

Nico and Lando find it difficult to let go. Daniel stands more to the side, patiently waiting. He finds it difficult to express everything he feels.

He's still sick, deep down. It doesn't go away in an instant. He knows that he will probably have nights and nights of troubled sleep left, moments of weakness where he will recall everything he has been through and will only wish to plunge a little lower.

But, in the meantime, he still lives.

His second chance.

The repercussions on his life. He wonders if one day he will be totally cured of all this or not. It still seems so easy, so much easier to just say it's okay and hide that dark part of him. Almost embarrassed to leave it in the open.

But it's okay because he's not alone. People at his side to accompany him throughout his journey. 

His friends, he really wants to see them as his friends, can he really see them as his friends, pull away and he finds himself facing Daniel.

Who smiles at him gently.

The scorching sun of his days, his anchor point when he is lost in the midst of the seas of his torment, the sense of security he feels after a long day having left him exhausted, tired, tormented.

Daniel.

His boyfriend.

The hundred messages he left behind stares at him from his phone and it's like a sign that he must move on, finally. 

To rise from this cold apartment floor on which he allowed himself to die and to bear his scars without shame, without fear.

Thousands of words … Everything he could say, everything he's been through and all these moments … He still has so much to live, so much to see.

_ His second chance. _

Max is sick.

But that doesn't mean he won't continue to fight. That doesn't mean he won't go on living.

This is only the start of a long road after all ... 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not totally happy with the end, may I say ... it looks ... well I started to have doubts towards the end. Coherence and so one. It was sweet to write a bit about Max's healing because I felt like he deserved it and he deserved to know that he is loved.   
> Kinda showed it ?  
> I hope you enjoyed this work as much as I did, I don't even know what to say about that so ... thanks for reading my work.
> 
> tumblr : laeana


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